


Jailhouse Blues: Consequences of Booze

by CuriousOh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arrested Dean Winchester, Bad Decisions, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Does Karaoke, Fluff and Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Karaoke Gone Wrong, M/M, Meet-Cute, Phone Calls & Telephones, Tumblr Prompt, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousOh/pseuds/CuriousOh
Summary: Modern technology has many advantages, but one of it's disadvantages is now you don't have to remember phone numbers. Which is how Dean ends up using his one phone call on a mysterious stranger.





	Jailhouse Blues: Consequences of Booze

Dean is jarred into consciousness by fellow imprisoned laughing and screaming. He squints his eyes against the bright light from the window and the hallway next to his cell. He rolls from the bench that he’s sharing with a guy with a tear drop tattoo, a guy who has a perpetual runny nose, and a guy that probably hasn’t seen a bar of soap in 2 weeks or so. He can’t see the source of the laughter that’s making his head pound, but suspects it’s coming from another cell. He walks over to the ultra classy combination toilet and sink and rinses his face, in hopes of waking up more fully, and that the cold water will somehow cure him of his definite hangover. He’s definitely glad that it was a weekday when he was arrested, because certainly his cell would be a lot more crowded had he been a rowdy drunk on the weekend.

Yeah, it had been stupid singing at the top of his lungs at 2am down the block as he walked from the karaoke bar that he had been tossed out of for being too toasted, getting pulled off stage after the boos, and had his keys temporarily confiscated with a promise of being able to retrieve them, should he come in tomorrow, sober.

But he had another wonderfully dehumanizing day at work. Tech support, can destroy all of one’s faith in humanity, and bust an eardrum or two, when people are yelling at him for policies he didn’t create and have no hope of changing…  
  
But his adherence to said policies determined whether or not he’ll be able to make his rent on time or be booted, belongings stacked up by the dumpster of his surprisingly not roach infested apartment. The lack of roaches was almost all it had going for it. It also mostly kept the rain out, if not the cold. And was nearby the growing cultural center of the city, and mostly affordable. Fucking gentrification. Also, he was cussed out by his Dick (of the literal kind) of a boss, Dick Roman for making lemonade out of lemons and answering his calls in various badly done accents and pretending to be a different person from a different place every time.

Apparently they do monitor for quality control, training purposes and to make their employees’ days hell. So yeah, he was embarrassingly in the clink, for being a dumbass. He can admit it.  
  
But the fact that he was thrown in the clink for violating noise ordinances and drunk and disorderly, with a touch of resisting arrest (really he was throwing in a little bit of hips while he sung to Air Supply and that apparently made him hard to handle) speaks more to how slow crime last night was. He really needed to stop letting Sam run his law school flashcards by him, he was beginning to memorize them, himself.

Speaking of which, Dean still hadn’t gotten his phone call. And since the day was blazing into his cell, hurting his still very much there hangover, Sam was certainly awake. His fellow degenerates were still laughing up a storm down the line, and Dean giving into his id more than he’d like to, walked up to the bars, blaring, “Hey, Assholes, shut the hell up!”

That happened to be the moment that a sheriff was letting out a few of his fellow drunks, one of which as he walked past definitely smelled ripe and the odor of human urine breezed past him. The cop met his eyes, and she glared at him. “Hey, what about my phone call?” Dean asked.

The cop didn’t turn, and one of the laughing voices said, “Hey asshole. Shut up!” followed by hyena level laughter, like it was literally getting Lion King in this place. And Dean’s head was only getting worse.

When breakfast, in the form of granola bars and bottled water, came in, his concerns about his phone call were addressed. “Hey, Nightingale approach the door, and get your phone call.” Dean recognized it as the cop that he took the radio from into sing into as he was arrested. Man, he might have a drinking problem, or a karaoke problem.  
  
He was led out to the hallway of the tiny police department to the ancient phone, complete with rotary dial and curly cord. So Dean knowing that he’s bailed out his brother out so much, (not really, Sam’s too much of a goody-two-shoes to ever literally need to be bailed out. But he definitely owes him) his first move was to call Sam.

He got his voicemail, “Hey you’ve reached Sam Winchester, I’m probably too busy studying to pick up. Leave a message and I’ll call you back after I pass the bar.”

So he tries the next number he knows, because for some reason, the cop isn’t willing to grab his cell phone so he can figure out the number for anyone else. Stupid modern technology, when he had to dial phone numbers regularly he knew everyone’s stupid number, hungover or not. Stupid drunk asshole Dean, why did he have to start singing outside? He dials the familiar number of his pseudo-Dad, before he can get a word out, he hears a gruff, “Hello.” Dean feels instant relief. Bobby might live a few hours away, but he’d definitely bail him out, lord knows that Dean had to bail him out plenty of times after Karen died. He might not even have to deal with a lecture about how dumb he is for taking the karaoke out of the bar. Perfect.

“Hey Bobby, it’s Dean. I need to you bail me out of jail.”

“This is not Bobby. Good luck getting out of jail.” The male voice on the other end answers, sounding not like Bobby, Bobby might’ve spent years drinking and yelling at people in his mechanic shop/salvage yard, but his voice didn’t sound as rough as this guy on the other end.

“Wait!” Dean said, desperate. He only knew two numbers, and apparently he didn’t remember the second one at all.

Dean could hear a few papers being shuffled around before a sighing, “What?”

“Look, I don’t know you. Obviously, but I don’t have anyone’s number and if you could just do me a solid, I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

The man on the other end chuckled, “Why would I trust someone in jail to pay me back? You’ve got to be some sort of miscreant, needing to get bailed out on a Thursday morning.”

“Yesterday was a real tough hump day.” Dean answered, honestly.

The man on the other end let out a high-pitched laugh, that ended in some gasping. “Yeah, I can understand that. So what’d you do?”

Dean sighed, for some reason admitting to this stranger that he was a dumbass was worst then if he had reached Bobby and had to tell him. “Would you believe that I was framed?”

The man on the other end laughed, “Framed for what?”

Dean nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “For getting drunk and singing past local noise regulation hours.”

“Framed, huh?”

“Yes sir.” Dean replied, biting back a smile.

“It seems to me, that criminals are always the ones claiming innocence after committing crimes. Besides your description is too specific crime to be made up. I suspect you're the culprit.”

Dean looks down at his feet, his other hand, not holding the receiver twisting up in the cord. “That may very well be the case.” Dean admits a little guiltily. They had such a fun dynamic going, Dean didn’t want to ruin it.

“If it were the case, can I ask what the accused party was allegedly singing?” The man said with a bit of mirth in his voice.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Dean said, quickly looking around the station to see if anyone was listening closely. The cop who had been watching him, had already rolled her eyes at his flirting and had stepped 20 feet or so away, and thus was out of hearing distance.

“I can’t promise that, but I’ll do my damnedest.” The man replied earnestly. Yeah, Dean is about to be immortalized permanently as a character in a story this guy will be telling for years. At least it’ll be random enough that there’s no way that he’ll be outed as that guy. I mean, if Dean were on the other end, he’d probably tell this story eventually to everyone.

“Are you familiar with the works of Air Supply?” Dean asks.

“Not in the slightest.” The man answers.

“What rock have you been living under? All out of Love? It was at the top of the charts for ages, it’s still appears in films and tv shows…”

“What genre is it?”

“I don’t know, like 1980s pop rock? It’s sort of like a ballad?”

“Oh. I listen to mostly jazz and classical.”

“Anyways, I had a bad day at work. Dick is such a, well a dick. Went to a karaoke bar, got a little too drunk, was kicked out, and sang Air Supply before some jerk off called the cops and now I’m in a police station, talking to you… you being?”

“Castiel. But I still don’t know what this song is.”

“What kind of a name is Castiel? You have youtube, you can look that up.”

“Family name. And no, I can’t, I’m at work and it’s blocked.”

“Oh.” Dean clears his throat. “Well Cas, I can’t do anything about your lack of youtube.”

“You could sing it. Then I can tell you if I’ve heard it.”

“No way. I’m surrounded by people. Plus it’s why I’m stuck here in the first place.”

“Who needs bail?” Castiel countered.

Dean sighed, tapping his forehead against the brick wall that the phone was attached to. Why does this sort of stuff always happen to him.

“You’ll bail me out, if I do this.” Dean replies, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I will, if you pay me back.”

“I’m sure that they record these calls Cas, that makes this a recorded oral agreement, that’s defensible by law.”

“Great that means that you’ll have to pay me back.” Cas answered, Dean thought he could hear a smile in Cas’s voice.

“Okay.” Dean took a big breathe, and was about to start…

“Anytime you feel ready, cowboy.”

“Cowboy?” Dean laughed, “Really Cas?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Castiel replied.

“Call you what?” Dean asks, getting completely side-tracked.

“Cas. You keep calling me Cas, I told you my name is Castiel. If you can’t remember that, are you sure that you’re going to remember to pay me back?”

“I know your name is Castiel. It’s just sort of a mouthful.”

“So you just nicknamed me, without any feedback from me?”

“Isn’t that how nicknames work? They’re names that other people give you.”

“Well traditionally, your legal name is also given to you by your parents. I don’t see how that’s any different.”

Dean makes a triumphant noise. “Thanks for making my point. Yeah, I nicknamed you, what are you going to do about it?”

“Whatever the hell I want to, Jailbait.”

“Ooo I’m so hurt.” Dean replies sarcastically.

“So, anytime you want to sing for your supper is good for me.” Castiel replies with a slight laugh.

“I guess there’s no time for mystery in this relationship.” Dean sighs. And starts singing slightly off-key just above a whisper, “ _I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you. I know you were right for so long. I’m all out of love, what am I without you? I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong_.”

Cas is cackling on the other end of the line. “Man that is sappy. Don’t quiet your day job. Thanks for the serenade Dean.”  
  
Dean can hear movement on the line... and as if Castiel stopped holding the phone up to his ear, to talk to someone else, Castiel sounds distant. “Why yes, Uriel this is a client call. I’m offended you would even ask. You know I’m not one to take personal calls.”

Dean hears the distant but unmistakable sound of a door shutting. Then the shuffling of papers. “Sorry about that.” Castiel replies.

“Sorry for getting you in hot water with your boss.” Dean replied.

“Oh, Uriel’s my big brother, not my boss, as much as he’d like to be.”

“You work with your brother?”

“Well, yeah…”

And then Dean can’t hear the rest of it because the phone’s been pulled out of his hand by a large cop that he hasn’t seen before, but his nametag says, ‘Officer Deacon’. “How in the hell does one phone call take so damn long?”

Officer Deacon goes to hang up the phone on the receiver and Dean says, “Wait! I get my phone call in order secure representation; which I have a right to. I have not given my representation the location of the police station yet.”

Officer Deacon begrudgingly hands the phone back to Dean and says, “Two Minutes.”

“Hey, Cas, sorry I didn’t get that. Officer Deacon took the phone. But, back to the reason for my phone call in the first place. I fulfilled my end of our deal, are you willing to fulfill yours, Cas? Or do I need to try some other random number?”

Dean hears the rustling of papers again. “Okay, I got a pencil, where do I need to go?”

Dean gives Castiel directions and hopes to god that he actually shows up, because otherwise he’ll be stuck with a public defender or something for his arraignment and be stuck in a cell in the meantime.

Officer Deacon leads Dean back to his cell, which has been emptied of a few of it’s former occupants, and replaced with others. He recognizes the large man with the short temper from the bullpen during his phone call. He tries to step past the space to go to the open corner on the far side of the cell. He unintentionally brushes up against the large man.

The large man stands up, and says, “Watch it.”

Dean nods keeping his head down, “Of course, sorry man.”

The man, lets his hands rest at his sides before sitting back down.

Dean mutters with relief. “Thanks Tiny.”

“What was that?” the large man replied, quick to his feet.

Dean throws his hands up, “Nothing. Sorry.”

Tiny sits back down, and Dean tells himself not to interact with his fellow prisoners until his knight in shining armor named Cas comes to his rescue.

Dean realizes for all their flirting over the phone and easy talking, that he has no idea what to expect out of Cas. I mean, he’s certainly not a teenager, not with a voice that deep and raw sounding. But, he could be any age. Dean begins imaging various forms, weights, ages and faces that Castiel could possibly have, based on his voice…

Dean’s startled by a cop clanging on the bars of his holding cell with his nightstick. “Winchester, you’ve made bail.”

Dean opens his eyes gets up, and once he sneaks past Tiny again, and sees one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen, next to the cop. With Dark hair, what looks to be a full day of scruff, and piercing blue eyes, a defined chin, and an amused smile. He looks to be about Dean’s age, with a similar height, and a leaner build. “Cas?” Dean asks, real life for once exceeding his imagination.

The man nods, “Dean?”

Dean replies, “That’d be me.” The officer between them, is opening up the door, and requests that they follow him, so they can get his personal belongings.

“I can’t believe you actually came.” Dean says, incredulous. “You literally sprung a stranger from jail.”

Cas frowns his full lips at that. “You’re making it sound more reckless then it was. We had a deal, and an enlightening conversation.”

Dean laughs, patting Castiel on the shoulder. “True, speaking of which, how much do I owe you for bail?”

The officer replies handing over the paperwork and a plastic baggy of belongings to Dean, “If you show up to your court date about 200 dollars.”

The officer then turns to Castiel. “You better hope he shows up.”

Dean interjects, “Of course I will, Thank you officer.”

Then Dean walks out the door with Castiel, grabbing onto Castiel’s elbow as they’re both walking out of the police station. “Thanks Cas, I owe you one.”

“You owe me about two hundred ones.” Castiel deadpans.

Dean full-on laughs, his entire body shaking with it. “True. One more favor?”

Castiel raises one eyebrow at that, “Depends on what it is…”

“Give me a ride back to my car?”

Castiel laughs, “Where is it?”

Dean looks down at his shoes, “Karaoke Bar, a few blocks.”

“If you do me a favor…”

“Least I can do.” Dean replies.

“Don’t make me bail you out again.” Castiel replies… unlocking his cream colored Lincoln Continental, complete with steer antlers.

“You got it.” Dean said, sliding into the passenger side. Looking around as Castiel backs out of his parking space. “This is the car of a pimp.”

Castiel laughs. "I'll accept cash, not credit, or checks. Cash only."

"You got it." Dean agrees. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Bicentennial Cas will be updated once I bang my head hard enough to dislodge some enough words to make a chapter. In the meantime, enjoy some fluff. I had fun in this universe. I might be tempted to expand it a little further, leave a comment if that's a good idea.
> 
> Not beta’d and written stream of consciousness style, so mistakes are my own and feel free to point out any of the less offensive ones.
> 
> Also, having never been arrested, or worked in the legal system at all, the police station stuff is based off of anecdotes/tv shows & movies and therefore not actually representative of actual legal process. It's fluff, not an academic case study. Do not use this as legal advice.


End file.
